


Volcano

by Readingfanfics



Series: Practice Stories [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Body Image, Caretaking, Insecurity, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Sibling Incest, but in sherlock's way, but not not sex either, not sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 23:02:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7777111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Readingfanfics/pseuds/Readingfanfics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft has doubts and Sherlock wants to help him. Will he be allowed? </p><p> </p>
            </blockquote>





	Volcano

“Stop it.” Sherlock's voice called out. Mycroft had been so busy checking himself in the mirror he hadn't heard him come in to his bedroom. He felt a faint blush spread across his cheeks at being caught.

 

“Stop what?” His voice sounded more strained then he wanted it to be. He kept his eyes on his face, noticing all the little things that bugged him the most on times like these. His too big noise, the color of his hair, the texture of it. He felt Sherlock move closer, quietly like a cat, elegant and graceful without any effort behind it. Not trained like himself. A line formed between his eyes, bringing out the wrinkles of his face even more. It didn't help his mood.

 

“You know what. Stop it.” Sherlock spoke louder, a bit of irritation in his voice. Mycroft shifted his eyes to Sherlock, noticing the lean lines of his body, the right amount of hard and soft. He felt a spark of frustration inside him, he schooled his features a second too late, noticing the sudden tension in Sherlock's stance.

 

“Leave Sherlock.” He brought his gaze back to himself, seeing the downturn of his too thin lips, his eyebrows turned down. He felt his hands turn into fists, ready to shatter the image of himself. He couldn't handle his brother's presence now, or his kind but meaningless words.

 

“You have to stop doing this. It's all in your head anyways.” Sherlock scolded. Getting closer, resting his hand on Mycroft's right shoulder. He felt his brother's grey blue eyes go over his frame, his face. Trying to deduce what Mycroft was thinking. Trying to figure him out. He never truly did.

 

“Just because it's in my head, doesn't mean it's not real.” Mycroft said coldly, his light watery grey eyes looking himself up and down in the mirror. “I told you to leave.”

 

“Not happening and you know it.” Sherlock said softly. Mycroft felt the breath of air against his ear. A shiver ran down his entire body. He clenched his fists even more, snapping his eyes back up to watch Sherlock. The bastard had a little smile on his face. He got even closer, Mycroft felt the warmth of his body against his back.

 

“Stop playing with me Sherlock. Not today.” He hated how broken his voice sounded. The weight of Sherlock's hand on his shoulder felt too warm, too heavy.

 

“I'm not.” Sherlock replied, licking the outside of Mycroft's ear. Mycroft let out a shaky breath, trying to not seek comfort in Sherlock's body, his presence.

 

“Just trying to help Myc. Let me.” Mycroft head the plea in Sherlock's voice. The soft press of lips on his neck, the feel of Sherlock's hand going down his arm, grabbing his hand and holding it.

 

“Sherlock.”

 

“Shhh. Stop Mycroft.” Sherlock stepped even closer, his body flush against Mycrofts. He heard the content sigh behind him, saw the mob of dark, shiny curls laying on his shoulder. Mycroft's left hand went to cover Sherlock's right. The gesture felt intimate, grounding.

 

“Stop that big brain of yours for now Myc. Don't listen to it.” Sherlock's other hand went to his front, stroking his stomach. The movement made Mycroft tense, the need to get out was overwhelming.

 

“Don't. You're beautiful Mycroft. Let me feel you.” Sherlock said, his mouth trailing a line down Mycroft's neck, catching every freckle there.

A moan escaped his lips without meaning too, he felt his knees tremble a little. He finally sank back in Sherlock's embrace. Taking in his comfort, his care.

 

“That's it. I've got you.” Sherlock's hand went from his stomach to his nipples, stroking them through the fabric of Mycroft's t shirt. Mycroft gasped when Sherlock pinched his left nipple, licking another line down his neck.

 

“You are beautiful Mycroft. So precious. A gift to cherish.” Sherlock praised, his hand going to Mycroft's hair and petting it, keeping his eyes on Mycroft's face.

 

Mycroft bit down on his bottom lip, keeping the words from spilling. _I'm not. Liar. Stop it!_

Sherlock's eyes turned dark, Mycroft felt the sharp sting of the bit to his neck.

 

“Stop it!” Sherlock growled, pressing him even closer to his body, their hands disconnecting when Sherlock held him tight. Almost too tight .

 

“You are gorgeous. Brilliant. Amazing. Precious. Exquisite.” Every word was followed by a kiss to Mycroft's neck, it dulled the sting of the bite. Mycroft blushed, casting his eyes down to where Sherlock was holding him. His elegant fingers sprawled out across Mycroft's chest, looking more pale against the darkness of the shirt.

 

He suddenly felt exhausted. He sagged against Sherlock's body, not able to keep control anymore. It was too much, his mind too overwhelming. He looked at his brother's face, the softness in his pale eyes, the promise in the line of his lips and he caved.

 

“Sherlock. Take me to bed.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I had a weird mood last night and this came to mind.  
> The title is from the song Volcano by Damien Rice  
> \----------------------------------------------
> 
> If I made any mistakes or you want to tell me how you liked it you can comment here or on my tumblr: http://readingfanficswatchingshows.tumblr.com/ 
> 
> If you want me to add tags you can send me an email to: KallistoIndrani@hotmail.com
> 
> I have a blog where you can find sneek peeks, updates and writer's tips: http://readingfanficswrites.tumblr.com/


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